


Sammy being weird: Vloggers Edition

by sammyjam



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, I have no clue how to use this website, M/M, Uhh pretty short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2017-11-03
Packaged: 2019-01-26 20:35:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12565680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sammyjam/pseuds/sammyjam
Summary: Set in an AU similar to the Optic Ink AU by Metamatronic on Tumblr, but they don't really age due to ~ magic ink ~ and now they're still alive in the current time and have a YouTube channel that they post vlogs and such on for some reason.Edit: Now possibly a series? Yeah, let's go with that.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Norman catches Sammy saying some weird stuff in his sleep, and decides the best way to react is to record said weird stuff and upload it to their shared YouTube channel.

The dull click of a camera sounds as a certain Projector Head switches it on, static giggles coming from his speaker as he tiptoes through the halls of his and Sammy's shared apartment.   
It's late, about 2am, when Norman slowly,  _ silently _ pushes open the door of Sammy's room. He jumps with the creak of the door, breathing a steady sigh of relief as he hears no shifting of a bed, indicating the man inside is still fast asleep.

Norman pauses, turning the now recording camera to his lens which has dimmed considerably since the start of the recording, and points towards Sammy's bed; quiet mumbling can be heard over the whirring of Norman's projector, though no words can be picked from the mess of slurred speech. Norman steps closer, lens light dimming further as to not wake up his roommate from whatever he might be dreaming of.   
The closer he gets, the more can be heard - Norman laughs and cranes the camera closer to Sammy's face, showing his furrowed brow and quizzical expression as he mutters strings of phrases.

Various sentences spill from his mouth, ranging from "The... cats, Wally... the cats!" - Last Norman checked, they had no cats in the apartment due to a 'no animals' rule set by the Landlord - to "Linda, don't take my turnips... they have feelings."   
...Norman’s not sure if he wants to ask why Sammy has emotional turnips, let alone who Linda is or why she's so dead set on taking them.

The nonsensical sleeptalk continues for a few more minutes until Sammy eventually falls silent. Just as Norman moves to stop recording, Sammy mumbles something else.   
"But Norm...y… I don't  _ want  _ a Bendy cutout… we’ve got like, eight already… ”

He stops, the whirring of his projector growing fractionally louder at the mention of ‘Normy’, and louder still with the realisation that Sammy may be referring to  _ him _ .

...that’s cute.

Norman gently ruffles the musician’s hair with a hand, watching Sammy give a slight smile in his sleep, and stops the recording, slipping out of the room.

He'll keep this a little secret between him and their viewers.

...Well, until Sammy goes through their channel and notices the new upload, but by that time he’ll probably have already taken it down.


	2. Sammy and the Vaguely Shady Stepladder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How many Sammy's does it take to change a lightbulb? We don't really find out in the end, but what we do learn is that you should never accept deals from your previous boss who accidentally trapped you in a haunted studio, especially if it's a deal for a ladder.

Sammy pauses, tilting his head slightly, thinking to himself. He's stood in the center of the main room in his shared apartment, eyeing a ladder - or is it a stepladder? - with concern; it doesn't look very safe but he's expected to change the faulty lightbulb hanging above him. He'd make a witty joke about  _ how many Sammys it would take to change a lightbulb _ but he's occupied with the growing worry for his safety.

It's a rusty old thing, with a few wobbly footholds and areas where the metal seems  _ sharp _ , but Sammy trusts the man who loaned it to him… as much as he can trust the same man who trapped him and his colleagues (one of which is now his roommate) in an inky, dark prison-of-a-studio. Hey, Henry said himself that it was safe enough.

Sammy whispers a prayer to the great Lord Bendy before reluctantly pulling himself onto the ladder and climbing upwards. Hopefully nothing goes too horribly wrong, or he'll end up with a broken leg and Norman appearing out of nowhere already recording his literal downfall _. _

The musician makes it as high as he needs unharmed, thankfully, and reaches out a hand towards the light he needs to replace.

...a small crack fills the otherwise empty room and Sammy’s blood runs cold; Sammy woefully accepts his fate as the rung he's stood on gives out from under him, and he regrets trusting Joey - or Henry, for that matter - when his arm catches on one of the sharp bits as he falls. He lets out a terribly loud shout and grips his wrist once he’s on the cold, wooden floor, watching blood well up in the surprisingly small cut the ladder inflicted on him.

It still hurt like hell, though.

* * *

 

Norman exhales a staticy sigh and slides down the wall of the kitchen, resting next to a power outlet. He's bored, Sammy hasn't played another prank on him yet… hell, last he saw Sammy he was making some shady deal about a possibly shady stepladder with an incredibly shady cartoon studio director. (and his considerably less shady husband)

The projector head shrugs to himself, idly fiddling with the wire of the fridge and thinking just what his companion could have gotten himself into. Maybe Joey actually made a deal with him and now Sammy’s without a soul because he sold it to his former boss for a crappy stepladder?

Norman is so absorbed in his wild theories that he doesn't catch the crash of the ladder collapsing and bringing Sammy with it until he hears a noisy string of swears coming from the room a few doors away.

He shoots upright with a screech and swiftly opens a drawer, slamming it shut once he's found what he was searching for.

* * *

 

Sammy’s still lying on the floor, exhausted and defeated by a metal deathtrap of a tool, when the door is practically kicked off its hinges by a frantic Projectionist wielding a bandaid and blaring deafeningly loud ambulance sirens from the speaker embedded in his chest. Sammy would be concerned about the inevitable noise complaints that will be coming his way from irritated neighbours unaware of what - or, who - exactly lives in the tiny apartment, but he was far more focused on Norman.

“O-Oh, heya, Lensey-” he tries to say, raising the injured arm in an attempt of a wave, but Norman interrupted him by grabbing his wrist and inspecting it. A thin trail of blood was running down his arm and soaking into his rolled-up sleeve, and Sammy hisses as Norman dabs a cloth on the cut and just slaps a plaster on it.

...Ah well, he tried.

Sammy winces as his roommate stares into his eyes, forgetting to dim the lense in his worry.

“It’s- it's fine, see? Nothing fatal- could you turn down the brightness a little bit?” Sammy says, squinting under the harsh light.

Norman dims his light as requested but refuses to let go of his wrist for a few more moments, simply watching him squirm uncomfortably in his iron grip. He seems to realise himself quickly and ruffles Sammy’s hair, letting the strands try to follow his hand as he moves it back and leaving Sammy’s hair a static-charged mess.

Once he decides Sammy isn't going to die right there on the ground he stands up and races out of the room, resuming the ambulance sirens.

Sammy just stares where Norman used to be, dumbfounded by just how caring - and a little silly - the act was…

 

...he still needs to change that lightbulb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops.


End file.
